1036 P.M.
ANTONIA
Antonia was finally relaxed for the first time in…
eight years, maybe? When had they signed on for their awful show?
Oh, who cares? She sat back against the soft white bench and rubbed her palm against the leather.
Only it wasn’t real leather, was it? It must be some sort of synthetic material that looked and felt exactly like Italian lambskin but could handle the beating of salt water and sun. A perfect fake, just like them.
Ted was telling the story of the time the two of them got stuck on the top of a volcano in Hawaii.
The park was closing for the night, and they were just starting to try to figure out how to make some sort of shelter when the park ranger appeared and escorted them down the windy path.
It was one of her favorite stories of the two of them.
Before they had children. Before the books and the fame. Life was simple and they were happy.
He had somehow remained quite attractive through the years, and she still wanted him.
Not nearly often enough. But right now, when she was drunk and couldn’t care less about all the stress and responsibility and judgment.
Suddenly, the thought of feeling his skin against hers—connecting in a way they hadn’t in a very long time—was quite appealing.
Maybe she would give him the nod when they got back to their suite.
He’d be surprised. And after, she’d tell him the reason she was never in the mood had nothing to do with her attraction to him, and everything to do with her cortisol levels staying off-the-charts high.
Stress was the death of desire. She could tell him about her plan—to sign one last deal and promise each other they would finally get out.
Just think of what they’d have to look forward to.
Maybe they’d start hiking in Hawaii again.
She turned to look at Charlotte, who was sitting to her right, fully engrossed in Ted’s every word.
Why didn’t she look at Antonia like that?
Deep down, Antonia knew why. To her, Ted was the fun one.
Just like he was with the kids. Antonia took on the role of the adult, the one who worried and nagged, and Ted was the supportive friend, there to listen and guide.
Always relaxed. Always patient. She both loved and hated him for this.
But maybe she could be fun too. After all, the kids were fully grown and Charlotte was not their child.
“Okay, I propose a game!” she announced, surprising even herself.
Miguel clapped his hands. “I’m in!”
Winslow raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know what the game is.”
Shaking his head at Winslow, Miguel said, “Doesn’t matter. A game’s a game. Let’s play.”
“Okay, we each share an unusual or embarrassing quirk, but not about ourselves. About another person at the table.”
Ted grimaced. “Let’s not. These things never end well.”
Antonia narrowed her eyes, trying to think of a way to make the game more palatable to her husband. “How about this? We go around the table this way…” She gestured to her right. “So, Charlotte does you and I do her and you do me. Winslow and Miguel do each other.”
“Yes, yes we do,” Miguel said, raising and lowering his eyebrows.
Antonia snort-laughed. “Okay, let’s go. Miguel, since you’re the most enthusiastic, you go first. Tell us something embarrassing or surprising about Winslow.”
He grinned around the table, then said, “Winslow does the best Mick Jagger impersonation I’ve ever heard.”
“Ooh! Show us, Winslow!” Antonia wiggled in excitement.
He shook his head. “Miguel is being very generous in his description. Besides, I only sing in the shower.”
“It’s true. He’d never do it in public,” Miguel answered. “So, you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Antonia sat back on her seat, slightly disappointed for half a second, before remembering she was trying to be fun. “Okay, Winslow. Tell us Miguel’s.”
Winslow tapped his chin as if trying to decide what to share. “When Miguel is scared, he gags.”
“Really?” Ted asked, sitting forward. “Like, scared as in you’re about to go bungee jumping off a hundred-foot bridge?”
“First of all, I’d never do something so crazy as that,” Miguel told him. “But, no, not really. More like if I’m nervous about something.”
“He once gagged all the way to a job interview.”
“That’s true,” Miguel said. “A lady on the tube thought I had been poisoned. She kept yelling at me, ‘Are you all right, sir? Do you need me to call poison control?’”
Antonia burst out laughing at his story. Yes, this game was a very good idea.
“Did you get the job?” Ted asked.
“Of course. Once I got to the building, I calmed down enough to keep it together and be charming, but the trip over was awful. Thank God it was in the days before everyone was recording everything all the time. Now, Ted, your turn. Give us the dirt on your lovely wife.”
Ted looked at his wife, then said, “Antonia can juggle.”
“Really?” Miguel asked. “Like knives and fire sticks?”
Ted nodded. “Actually, I’m pretty sure she could juggle knives.”
“No. Well, maybe if someone had a gun to my head,” she answered. “Just…little juggling balls. When I was a kid, I thought I might want to join the circus.”
“The circus?!” Winslow asked.
Antonia felt warmth spread through her at the memory. “Well, as a ten-year-old girl from a small town, the circus seemed very glamorous.”
They all laughed, then Miguel said, “Any chance you’ll show us?”
“Do you have a gun?”
He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Okay, Charlotte, you do Ted,” Antonia said.
Charlotte’s cheeks turned pink, and she stumbled to get her words out for a second. “Umm…I’d say a quirk of Ted’s would be…” She stared at him and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “He’s extremely afraid of spiders.”
Ted shuddered dramatically, then added, “It’s all those eyes.”
Everyone laughed, then Antonia said, “She’s right. He’s terrified of them. In fact, if there’s a spider in our house, he yells for me to come kill it.”
“Okay,” Ted said, pursing his lips for half a second. “But to be fair to me, back home in Idaho, we didn’t have spiders that jump. Toni grew up in the Pacific Northwest, so she’s used to it.”
Winslow screwed up his face in disgust. “That would do me in as well. In fact, just the thought of it is making my skin crawl. Let’s move on. Who’s next?”
“No one has done Charlotte,” Ted answered.
Antonia held up her hand. She drew a deep breath, then spoke loudly, aiming her words in Oliver’s general direction. “Charlotte here is not only flexible in her personality, but she can also touch her toes to the back of her head in more than one way.”
Charlotte blushed. Winslow’s eyes popped open.
Ted’s cheeks turned slightly red. Miguel began begging her to show them.
Oliver looked over from behind the bar and smirked.
Antonia nodded at him. “That’s right. Two different ways!
She can raise her feet in front of her face and over her head or do a back bend and touch her eyebrows with her toes. ”
Charlotte shook her head as if everyone could do it. “Only because I was a gymnast growing up.”
Miguel smiled at her. “Don’t be modest, girl. If I could do that, I’d be shouting it from the rooftops.” He turned to Oliver. “Okay, young man, you’re up, but you have to do yourself since no one else here knows your secrets.”
Oliver folded his arms and looked up, as if thinking about it. Then he looked at Charlotte and said, “I fall in love too quickly.” His gaze shifted to Miguel. “Occupational hazard maybe, since I’m moving around all the time.” Shrugging, he added, “Never works out, but it’s fun while it lasts.”
Miguel’s smile faded. “Well, that’s not funny or embarrassing. It’s a little sad.”
Oliver shook his head. “I’m fine. Believe me. I’ve got it pretty good.”
“I don’t think you do,” Miguel answered. “Love is the whole point of all of this.”
“Not for everyone,” Winslow said with a firm nod. “Some men are here for adventure. I suspect that’s the case for Oliver here.”
Giving him a grateful smile, Oliver said, “Exactly.”
Winslow glanced around the table. “So, we’ve got a juggler, a gagger, an arachnophobe, a sub-par singer, a gymnast, and a hopeless romantic.”
Antonia nudged Charlotte on the arm and leaned in. “Oliver seems very into you.”
Charlotte’s cheeks turned pink and she glanced across the deck to the young man. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh yes, he is. He keeps looking over at you,” Antonia said, throwing her a conspiratorial smile. “I think you should go for it.”
“Go for what?” Ted asked, his expression serious.
Sitting up, Antonia tried to whisper but failed miserably. “She should have a fling with Oliver.”
Ted’s head snapped back a bit and he blinked several times, as though a gust of wind had just peppered him with sand. “Oh…do we think that’s a good idea?”
Antonia stared at Oliver and nodded, her movements exaggerated by the booze. “Yes, I think we do. Miguel? What do you say? Should young, sweet, beautiful, hard-working Charlotte here tap that?”
Miguel burst out laughing. “First of all, she wouldn’t tap that. He’d be the one doing the tapping. And second, yes, absolutely she should make our poor Oliver’s week.”
Ted made a tsking sound. “All right, you two. You’re cut off. Neither of them have asked for this.”
“Oh Ted, relax. Char here deserves to have a good time.”
“Not appropriate, Toni,” Ted told her in his ‘I mean business’ voice. “He’s literally right there and can hear you talking about him like he’s a piece of meat to be passed around. Let’s change the subject.”
Antonia pulled a face. “Fine, but I still think it’s a wonderful idea.”
Winslow, whose cheeks had turned ruddy over an hour ago, let out a snort-laugh. “Dr. Dawson, you’re rather fun when you’re drunk.”
Offering him a deep bow, she said, “Why thank you, sir. You as well.”